Yesterday was a tough day. I got the news that my first horse
had passed away due to old age and I felt awful that I haven’t seen him in
about a year. His name was
Whatchamacallit (boy did I think I was funny when I named him that) aka Duncan and he was retired at Masterson Station Park having
been a lesson horse there for many years.
I still hold on to nothing but good memories of him from my childhood
and will miss him mightily.
I was 13 when I came across Duncan. He came to Masterson to
be in the lesson program and I decided I had to have him. He was a tall
chestnut with high white socks behind and a big stripe down his face. He had to have been some sort of TB/Saddlebred/QH/Heinz 57 mutt, but he was beautiful. He had
been a track pony for a lady who sent him to Masterson and when I spoke to her
she told me I could have him for $1,300. Nobody knew exactly how old he was
because he was a cribber, and the vet told me she thought he could be anywhere
from 12-14, but he looked great, so I just assumed he was younger. I approached my Mom about buying him. There
was no way she could afford it and thankfully she told me no (though at the
time I hated her). I talked to his owner
again and she said I could make payments. So it took me two years of odd jobs
and hard work, but in the end he was mine. To this day I have him and my Mom to thank for the huge lesson in perseverance and responsibility.
That horse took me to many 4-H shows and took me to my first
horse trials. He wasn’t the best jumper
and lord knows I was scrappy but I really had no idea what I was doing, but
that horse taught me so much. He was a teacher and a friend. Most everyone knows my Mom and I butted heads
a lot, so Duncan was my refuge. He was a safe conveyance. He never said no, but
always made sure I was safe. There are countless times when he should have dumped
me and left me for the wolves. There was a time when Annie and I were too lazy
to walk the trash the half mile to the road so we tied the trash bags (insert
WTF here) across our horses’ backs to take them. Naturally they spooked, and
dumped us and the bags, but Duncan didn’t run away. He just looked at me with
that “hey dummy what were you thinking” look. There was the time we dressed our
horses up like reindeer to ride in the Christmas parade downtown and the time
at the 4-H state show when my Mom and I got into an ugly fight and I galloped
off on him at the Louisville Fairgrounds. My Dad used to hold Duncan's lead sitting
in a lawn chair and he would just stand there and sleep. He was my saving grace as a child.
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| Duncan and I at the Christmas parade with 4-H |
In the end college
came along and he was getting older ( or so I thought). I couldn’t really afford to keep him and
knew he would be safe if he was at Masterson with Georgia (one of the people I most look up to). There he stayed for
another eleven years (yes I said 11). In that time he learned to lay down with kids when they
rode him so he didn’t have to work, he would stand for the endless number of
kids to climb on and off of him. He taught my nieces to ride. He grew old and
just kept on being the saint he was from my youthful years.
This morning I got a phone call from my good friend,
Georgia, who has run the Masterson program for as long as I can remember. She
said Duncan was down in the field this morning and didn’t want to get up. It
was his time to go. We guessed he was around 35 years old. He could not have
had a better life thanks to Georgia. I am incredibly grateful to her for taking such good
care of him. So now that I have reflected on how amazing my first horse was and
regretting that I had not seen him in about a year I must say goodbye. Rest In
Peace Duncan. You were a friend, teacher, kind hearted soul and you
started me on the path that has led me to make horses my lifestyle, and I will
never forget you.
Until next time
~Mandy
